I soon drifted down like the powder to the ground.
Just starting to fall unto the mountain side,
Neither snow nor excitement could be held.
I soon drifted down like the soft powder to the ground,
The season of winter had begun again.
Neither snow nor excitement could be held,
Falling from the darkened sky,
The season of winter had begun again.
The outside winds were strong and cold.
The River by Grayson Batsche The flow of a river seems so peaceful to me, The stream goes along at its own pace, Always running, never stopping, Forming its own shape, Becoming smaller, Smaller, Then bigger, And bigger again Over and over again. Becoming the keeper of time, A never-ending hourglass of nature… Time. So short to us, Nothing like the River’s. Continuing, always a schedule, Be here, do this, at this very minute, Always pressuring us to never miss a beat. But why must we run on these beats that crush us? Never relenting, keeping us down in the stress of seconds. Everywhere we look, glowing numbers shine in our face, The clocks of towers, the clocks of school walls, Twos, fours, sixes, eights, tens, and twelves. And holding the odd numbers between. But why do we bother with it, Controlled by given time? Control…
It is the power we have, .....And the power over us, ..........Taking us where we please. ...............But we choose to have power ....................And we choose the power over us. For what though, success in your own future? .....Success bonds with suffering. ..........Could it simply be for more money? ...............Dollars wouldn’t cure a maelstrom of emotion. ....................Yet, when from freedom, then, there comes peace. As the common saying goes, freedom isn’t free, ......Not from money or power. ..............We get it where we can. .........................And upon using it all, ...................................Life going faster, ............................................We fill it all up. ....................................................It is all ours, ....................................................All our choice, ........................................................Making it into ...........................................................What we can, ................................................................But in greed, ..................................................................Weighed down, .....................................................................Time’s weight. ...........................................................................If I choose, ................................................................................To control, .......................................................................................It will be ............................................................................................My own .................................................................................................Power. .......................................................................................................Mine. .............................................................................................................Me.
I want to control my power, my freedom, my time. I want to control my flow, up, down, left, right. I want to be like the river.
The Cave Dwelling
by Robert Frost
There sandy seems the golden sky
And golden seems the sandy plain.
No habitation meets the eye
Unless in the horizon rim,
Some halfway up the limestone wall,
That spot of black is not a stain
Or shadow, but a cavern hole,
Where someone used to climb and crawl
To rest from his besetting fears.
I see the callus on his soul
The disappearing last of him
And of his race starvation slim,
Oh years ago, ten-thousand years.
The White Season
by Me! :)
The outside winds were strong and cold,
The snow now formed heavy clouds.
Falling from the darkened sky,
The color white brightened the grounds.
The snow now formed heavy clouds,
Just starting to fall unto the mountain side,
The color white brightened the grounds.
I soon drifted down like the powder to the ground.
Just starting to fall unto the mountain side,
Neither snow nor excitement could be held.
I soon drifted down like the soft powder to the ground,
The season of winter had begun again.
Neither snow nor excitement could be held,
Falling from the darkened sky,
The season of winter had begun again.
The outside winds were strong and cold.
The River by Grayson Batsche
The flow of a river seems so peaceful to me, The stream goes along at its own pace, Always running, never stopping, Forming its own shape, Becoming smaller, Smaller, Then bigger, And bigger again Over and over again. Becoming the keeper of time, A never-ending hourglass of nature…
Time. So short to us, Nothing like the River’s. Continuing, always a schedule, Be here, do this, at this very minute, Always pressuring us to never miss a beat. But why must we run on these beats that crush us? Never relenting, keeping us down in the stress of seconds. Everywhere we look, glowing numbers shine in our face, The clocks of towers, the clocks of school walls, Twos, fours, sixes, eights, tens, and twelves. And holding the odd numbers between. But why do we bother with it, Controlled by given time? Control…
It is the power we have,
.....And the power over us,
..........Taking us where we please.
...............But we choose to have power
....................And we choose the power over us.
For what though, success in your own future?
.....Success bonds with suffering.
..........Could it simply be for more money?
...............Dollars wouldn’t cure a maelstrom of emotion.
....................Yet, when from freedom, then, there comes peace.
As the common saying goes, freedom isn’t free,
......Not from money or power.
..............We get it where we can.
.........................And upon using it all,
...................................Life going faster,
............................................We fill it all up.
....................................................It is all ours,
....................................................All our choice,
........................................................Making it into
...........................................................What we can,
................................................................But in greed,
..................................................................Weighed down,
.....................................................................Time’s weight.
...........................................................................If I choose,
................................................................................To control,
.......................................................................................It will be
............................................................................................My own
.................................................................................................Power.
.......................................................................................................Mine.
.............................................................................................................Me.
I want to control my power, my freedom, my time.
I want to control my flow, up, down, left, right.
I want to be like the river.